447 Days
by Sus-aka-Susie
Summary: It's the summer before college and Tristan's back just in time to stir things up.
1. The King's Return

**Title: **447 Days

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters and places from _Gilmore Girls_ they belong to Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB.

**Rating: **PG-13.

**Summary: **Season Four never happened, considering I started writing this before it started.  Actually I started before season three but I'm still not sure how that fits in because it can take place after it.  Basically Rory's graduated high school; it's the summer before college.  She and Paris are friendly, but what happens when Tristan returns?

**Pairing:  **Your not so basic Trory.  It'll get there eventually.

**Dedication: **To Jamie for being the most supporting encouraging beta ever, and convincing me to actually post this.  Surya for just being general greatness and the best personal cheerleader a girl could have.  And to Janine for being the coolest llama this side of the Sahara ;-)

_Chapter 1: The King's Return_

            Four hundred forty seven days he had been gone, and yet it was all the same.  One would think that in the span of so many days, so many hours, minutes, something would change; but as he looked around it became blatantly clear that nothing had.  There was a time when this would be comforting, when the idea that he could just slip back into the spot he vacated all those days ago without a backwards glance would have left him content but this was not one of those times.

             He slowly made his way into the overly crowded room, hoping that if he moved slowly enough no one would notice his presence.  Of course that was an impossible task to be had, within moments he was surrounded by old classmates engaging him in mindless chatter and asking series of inane questions.  He was right where he had left off, the center of attention, the most popular guy in the room, surrounded by throngs of girls wanting him and guys wanting to be him.  All he could do was wonder why he had come in the first place.

            He had had every intention of not showing up, he had just used the party as a reason for leaving home, for getting away from the isolated castle his parents had left him in for the summer.  He was going to just drive, drive until he reached a destination, any destination.  Instead he came here, to a party thrown by someone he had once known and he couldn't even explain why, just that something inside of him had told him to go.  Though now that he was here he was seriously wondering why any part of him had wanted to be here.  What did he think would happen?  Who did he think he would see?  Did he really expect anything to be different?

            He had barely spoken three words since he had entered the room and yet the crowd around him seemed to be growing thicker by the second.  It wasn't that he had nothing to say, because he had lots to say, millions of things he wanted to share; it was just that these people would not care.  So, he remained silent, trying to concentrate on the conversation around him, always coming up short.

            It wasn't until he felt a tugging on his hand that he paid any real attention to those around him, but there were too many.  Too many people looking at him, smiling at him, too many to figure out who the insistent tugging was coming from.   He did the only thing he could do, politely excuse himself and follow the hand that had attached itself to his own.  Once he had made his way past the crowd that had surrounded him, he lifted his eyes from the delicate hand adjoined with his to find who had rescued him from the maddening crowd.

            "Paris," he acknowledged, wondering how he should feel about this turn of events.

            "Nice to see you too, Tristan," Paris responded coolly, staring at the boy before her intently.  She watched him carefully as his eyes fixed on a point on the opposite wall.  Following his gaze she noted that it was not fixed on anything in particular.  "That bad, huh?"

            His head snapped towards her as her voice penetrated his wandering mind, "What are you-"

            "You're different," she cut him off, getting right to the point.  He smirked, for the first time that evening glad that some things don't change.

            "I don't know what you're talking about Paris," he responded feigning innocence.

            "Cut the crap DuGrey.  I'm not them and I know you better than that.  You're different," she repeated the words for good measure letting him know that she wasn't going to let him brush her off.

            He sighed, running his hands through his already messy hair.  "You're right," he conceded ignoring the twitch of Paris's lips as she fought off a smile.  "Did you really expect me to be the same?"

            "No," she replied, looking him in the eye for a moment before she started to walk off.

            "Par," Tristan called after her, wondering where she was going and why she was leaving.  When she didn't turn around, he followed her as she moved through the house opening the back door and stepping out into the yard.

            "I don't need a puppy," Paris stated finally turning back to Tristan.

            Smirking he couldn't help leaning into her as he responded, "hmm, I always thought of myself as more of a tiger personally, but if puppy works for you…" he trailed off as he noticed the fire in the blonde's eyes.

            "I'm sorry I tried," she stated dismissively, trying her best to keep her anger in tact as she spun around once more attempting to leave him in her wake.  Only this time he had anticipated her action, catching her arm before she was out of reach.

            "Paris, wait, I'm sorry, okay," his voice pleaded with her, effectively stopping her in her tracks.  The tone of his voice, it reminded her so much of a child but then she remembered who she was talking to Tristan, the master of manipulation and her gaze turned icily upon him.

            "I'm sorry too.  I'm sorry I thought you were different, that you had finally realized that you weren't like them," she ranted waving her arm in the direction of the house, "but I was wrong.  You haven't changed, and I'm not sure you ever will." 

            He was too stunned to respond, he wanted to explain to her that he had changed, that he wasn't the boy who left all those days ago but when he finally found the words, she was gone.  He didn't try looking for her knowing it would be no use.  Instead he sat on bench just before the garden, hating himself for it but wallowing in self-pity all the same. 

            Paris had offered him friendship, or at least a chance at understanding and he had turned her away.  The one thing he had been looking for, hoping to find she was offering in a way only she could and what did he do?  He acted like an ass, he acted in the same manner he would have before he left, in the manner he had promised himself he would avoid.  Yet the moment he was confronted with the possibility of opening himself to someone however minutely he ran away scared.

            At his last thought something inside of him snapped, he couldn't explain it but before he could think about what he was doing he was off the bench heading determinately back to the party.  He shrugged off his admirers as he searched the crowded room.  When they finally fell upon her, he couldn't stop his mouth from opening in shock.  

            "You know it really isn't polite to stare," his head whipped around at the sound of the voice so close to his ear, he hadn't realized anyone was behind him.

            "I wasn't staring, I was observing," he replied smoothly, openly running his eyes over his distracter's form.

            "Well you can see how one might easily mistake one for the other," she replied a spark flashing in her eyes as she baited him.  "So, who is she?"

            "Excuse me?"

            "Who were staring...observing so intently?  Don't worry, I'm sure she will fall victim to your charm; not all of us can be immune."

            He smiled, "She is."

            The brunette raised an eyebrow inquisitorially, "And here I thought I was the only one."

            "You were never immune, Mary," he replied leaning into her.  "Just too scared to admit otherwise."

            He watched her waiting for her retort anticipating what she would say next.  When she said nothing, he couldn't contain the smirk that graced his features, "Loose your wit while I was away?  Perhaps you would like a personal tutoring session to bring you back up to par?"  He wasn't sure what had come over him, why he kept reverting back to his old self.  It probably had something to do with being surrounded by the people who knew the old him, but somehow he knew there was more to it than that.

            "Wanna dance?" her question broke his revere, startling him as tried to understand her request.

            "Excuse me?"

            "I asked if you wanted to dance," she replied, a blush creeping up her neck as she pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

            "Why?"  He could have smacked himself, the one girl he had wanted more than anything had just asked him to dance and he asked her why.  But then this was not like her; she would never ask such a thing of him.

            She shrugged, "Just feel like dancing."

Doing the only thing he could, he took her hand and started to dance as a slow song streamed in through the speakers.  He allowed himself to pull her close and forget about everyone else for a moment before he spoke.  "Paris, I was looking at Paris."

"Oh," she replied, unsure what to do with the information he was divulging.

"She's different, more confident," he noted.

"She's always been confident."

"Not like this…" he trailed off, watching as Paris danced with a boy he didn't recognize.  "Who's he?"

Taking a glance over his shoulder as he turned them so she was now facing Paris she quirked her eyebrow looking at him inquisitively before responding.  "Jealous?"

He let out a chuckle before replying, "Curious, not jealous.  I never wanted Paris, you know that," he continued pointedly.

"Yeah," she confirmed.

Smirking he watched amused as she suddenly became shy, attempting to hide behind a veil of her own hair.

"So, you never answered me, who is he?" Tristan asked again, not completely sure why he cared but needing to know.

Rory shrugged before responding, "He transferred in the beginning of the year.  His name is Matt or Mark, I don't actually know him."

Tristan nodded, turning his attention away from Paris and back to the girl at hand.  After all this was his chance, she had asked him to dance and so far he hadn't screwed up.

"Why are you all by yourself?  Last I saw you had your own personal lap dog."  Of course, it only took moments for his mouth to get him into hot water.

If she was affronted or surprised by the invasion she didn't let on.  "Dean and I broke up."  Her answer was simple, said as if she was talking about the weather.

Unsure of how to handle her blasé attitude he said what seemed to be appropriate, "Sorry."

She laughed a moment before looking him in the eye, "No you're not."

Smirking he conceded, "You're right."

Smiling at his concession they danced the remainder of the song in silence, both oddly content for the time being with the last exchange.

As the song ended he released her from his embrace, thanking her for the dance as he moved to the outskirts of the room, all the while aware that she was following him.   
            

She jumped almost knocking him over as he stopped walked and quickly turned around facing her.  Her breath caught in her throat as she noted their proximity to one another, even closer than when they were dancing and she thought she might never breathe again as her gaze caught his.  

They stared at each other for moments that seemed to stretch on forever, blue on blue, neither of them wanting or willing to be the first to turn away.

"So, what is this some kind of staring contest or wait, I know, you two are communicating through mental telepathy."

As the voice penetrated their thoughts both heads swiveled to face the interruption.

"What can I do for you Paris?" Tristan questioned wearily, trying to figure out why Paris had sought them out, especially after leaving him so abruptly earlier. 

"For starters you can move about four steps to your left."  When she received blank stares from the two sets of eyes she continued with a wave of her hand, "You're standing in front of the drinks."

"Sorry, we didn't realize.  We'll just move over here, out of the way, so that people can get drinks," Rory rambled, a blush creeping up her neck as she realized both how inane she sounded and the position Paris had found them in.

Looking up she noted that Tristan had yet to move from his spot; instead a lazy smirk crossed his lips as he began to lean closer to Paris.  She groaned inwardly as she realized what he was about to do.  In an effort to avoid whatever he was about to say she quickly grabbed his shirt, pulling a surprised Tristan away from Paris and inadvertently into herself.

 Smirking he looked down at Rory's flushed face.  Seizing the opportunity he lowered his head to her ear, "forceful, I like it," he commented with a low growl, nipping at her ear to accentuate his words.

Chastising herself for her hastiness in getting Tristan way from Paris as well as the involuntary shudder that ran through her as his breath tickled her flesh; she looked him in the eye, "I always knew you were one for being dominated."

"Kinky, Mary.  Perhaps you're not so innocent after all."

She smiled ready to respond with a retort of her own when they were once again interrupted by the petite blond.  

"If you don't mind," she said curtly indicating the table they now blocked, this one holding various finger foods.

This time it was Tristan who moved out of the way, weaving his way to the other side of the room as Rory stood steadfast.

"Have your legs stopped working?" Paris questioned impatiently.

"What is wrong with you?" Rory hedged ignoring Paris's question.

"I have no idea what you're talking about.  Now, if you could just move," Paris responded heatedly.

"Don't plat innocent Paris, it doesn't suit you," the brunette replied.  "Why are you being so hostile?  You know, he was staring at you."

"Who?"

A laugh escaped Rory's lips before responding wondering how the answer was not obvious, "Tristan."

"He was only staring because I left him outside."  When Rory didn't respond Paris added hastily, "besides, it doesn't matter why or even if he was staring, not anymore."

"Huh?" Rory questioned honestly stupefied by Paris's response.

"It doesn't matter because I don't care, not about him, not any more," Paris explained her voice indicating her growing annoyance and agitation.

"Liar," was Rory's simple response, before she took off in the direction she had watched Tristan go minutes earlier leaving a slightly stunned and very upset Paris in her wake.

It only took a moment before Paris stalked off after Rory, wanting to dispel any misconception the brunette seemed to have about herself and Tristan.  Then, just as abruptly as she started after her, she stopped, wondering why she even cared what Rory thought about the situation in the first place.  Sure, they might have forged a friendship over the past two years but what did it really matter what Rory thought about her?  Of course Paris couldn't quell the taunting voice in the back of her head telling her that it was because Rory's observation was dead on, and she knew it.  Exasperated Paris turned around heading back towards the now unobstructed table of food.

Rory searched the crowd of people within the room she had just entered, realizing that Tristan was nowhere in sight and that she actually had no reason to be looking for him she sighed heavily before heading back the opposite direction from which she came.  Having been to a few parties there she quickly navigated her way to the library, no longer in the mood to be social, yet not quite ready to leave either.


	2. Expect the Unexpected

**A/N:  **I just want to thank everyone who is reading this and all the people who reviewed, I never anticipated such a response, and it blows my mind to think so many of you are reading my story and enjoying it.  Just know that I appreciate it, a lot.  Oh, and don't worry, trory will happen, but like all good things, it comes to those who wait.

To Sur for building my confidence like no one else, Jamie for being perhaps my biggest cheerleader, and the Llams for all her encouragement.

Now without further adieu…

_Chapter 2: Expect the Unexpected_

Tristan wandered across the lavish estate not bothering to pay attention to where he was going, lost in thoughts of the evening's events.  Falling back into his sexually charged banter with Rory had been easy, they had chemistry and the fact that she seemed to appreciate it this time around only added to their fire.  He wanted her that much was clearly evident and time had done little to change that.  What he hadn't counted on was Paris.  Somewhere along the way she had grown up and he couldn't deny that her newfound confidence was attractive and incredibly sexy.  Plus he couldn't help but wonder what would be if she concentrated all her fire, all her passion and drive on something less than academic.

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair, wondering if any of this even mattered.  Paris wasn't interested in him and he couldn't be sure Rory was either; besides some twisted love triangle was the last thing he needed.  He had just come back to Hartford; he'd be going to college in three months, what did any of this matter anyway?  It mattered because he wanted them and for once in his life he knew he might not be able to have either and he certainly couldn't have both.

"Watch it!"  The voice startled him causing him to lose his train of thought and footing as he stumbled backwards before coming to a halt.  "Not so swift for a military school graduate."

"Paris," he replied skeptically, not sure what to make of her comment or her for that matter. Between their earlier interactions and his previous thoughts he was sure nothing good could come from this encounter.

"Take a seat."  He looked at her quizzically as he sat beside her on the grass.  What had he missed?  Not twenty minutes ago she seemed as if she would prefer anything to his presence and now she was inviting him to sit with her – at least she was consistently confusing, he mused.

The two sat in silence for a while; both caught up in their own thoughts, unsure how to break the thickening silence that had fallen over them.

It was Paris who spoke first, "I'm sorry." 

Her words were spoken softly and it took Tristan a moment to comprehend what was being said.  He simply nodded and replied in an equally hushed tone, "Me too."

After that, they fell back into the silence - this one was comfortable and somehow filled with understanding.  It was funny how quickly emotions could change.

"Paris?"

His voice startled her, she had grown accustomed to the silence and his breaking it surprised her, even still she did not let this on.  "Yes?"

He stayed silent for a moment and she wondered whether or not he was going to speak, but before she could say something else his voice cut through her thoughts once again.  "This is nice."

"Yeah," she agreed.

As they lapsed into yet another silence Tristan's mind was in overdrive.  He couldn't stop himself from taking sideways glances at Paris every couple of seconds.  Something about them sitting there and not talking unnerved him more than he would like.  He was very aware of how close they were sitting and he finally gave up playing games and openly stared at the girl.  Her hair was tied back in a bun but instead of making her look old as he might have thought it gave her an elegance he couldn't explain.  Perhaps it was the tendrils of blonde that had escaped the confines of the bun and were framing her face but he had never seen her look quite so beautiful.  His eyes descended down her neck, slightly alarmed as he caught himself fighting the urge to lean over and run his lips over the soft skin there.  As the thought permeated his brain completely he immediately adverted his eyes, an uncharacteristic flush tainting his cheeks.

Paris was very aware of his eyes on her, studying her, but she didn't move.  For some reason she found herself afraid to call attention to his actions.  A part of her was relishing this, Tristan DuGrey was checking her, Paris Gellar, out; but the other part of her was berating herself from taking such pleasure in this fact.  After all he was probably just looking for a new piece of ass.  Yet, she couldn't convince herself fully of that, either.  She felt his gaze leave her and she let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding; only instead of feeling the expected relief she couldn't stop the nagging disappointment in the pit of her stomach.  She knew she shouldn't be concerned with whether he wanted her or not especially after their encounter earlier but the part of her that still clung to her first real crush was crushed. 

Her mind was in such a battle with itself that she did not notice Tristan's shift in position beside her.  That is until she felt the distinct softness of his lips grazing the juncture between her neck and shoulder moments before his hands wrapped around her abdomen, sending heat rushing through her body, her mind effectively stopped.  She provided no resistance as he pulled her body closer to his, her back flush against his chest all the while his lips leaving a trail of hot kisses up and down the column of her neck.  Before she could stop herself a small moan of pleasure escaped her lips and she turned her head to the side giving him better access.  

Somehow he had turned her around, he was now kissing along her jaw, Paris's mind numb with anticipation of what was to come.  It seemed forever in her fogged brain before his lips descended onto her own.  Her hands, as if on their own, found their way around his neck playing with the soft hairs at the nape.  His hands were pressed into her back, drawing her body closer to his until they were melded together, his tongue delving into the recesses of her mouth awakening latent desires within her. 

After minutes of endless kisses they finally pulled apart, gasping for breath.  It was then, his forehead resting against her own, as her erratic breathing slowed to its normal pace, oxygen returning to her brain that her senses seemed to clear.  Jerking away hastily she immediately bolted from his lap, standing up, putting as much distance between them as she could without completely running away.  

Running a hand through his hair Tristan looked up at Paris a sheepish grin on his face.  He wasn't sure what had come over him, one moment he was trying his damnedest not to act on his impulses and the next thing he knew he was kissing Paris.  As soon as she wretched herself from their embrace he realized it had been a mistake and yet he couldn't bring himself to regret it. 

"That was a mistake," Paris stated her tone eerily calm as her pacing gave away her inner turmoil.  As she paced back towards Tristan she caught his gaze, her tone harsh, "and wipe that idiotic expression off your face, you aren't five Tristan and you didn't just get caught with your hand in the cookie jar."

He fought back a smirk and the retort that sprung to his lips as a result of her words; he didn't need to add fuel to Paris's rage.  Once he had managed to repress any hint of amusement he spoke, bringing himself to his feet, "It was a mistake, but that doesn't make it wrong."

Flabbergasted Paris spoke, "How can you say that?  Of course it was wrong.  We shouldn't be kissing Tristan.  You don't even like me all that much if I remember correctly."

"It's not wrong because it was bound to happen, Par, and now that it has well we can move on," he shrugged, as if to indicate how simple the situation could be if Paris let it.

"What do you mean it was bound to happen?" she demanded, her frustration with the whole situation coming to a boiling point.  Here she was freaking out and he was calm, relaxed even.

"Relax Paris," his words did nothing to relax her, if anything they only made her more upset.  Her mouth set in a tight line as she glared at him.  "Okay, okay," he conceded.  "I just meant that while you and I are clearly not meant to be, and I am sure you will agree with me there.  Somewhere along the line we wondered what it would be like with the other.  I mean come on Par, I know the circumstances weren't the best but you can't tell me that after we went out the once you didn't wonder what it would have been like to kiss me."

"You're right, I can't.  I wanted to know what it was like to kiss you since I was thirteen, I couldn't help it but that still doesn't explain why YOU kissed me," her pacing had stopped as she came face to face with him, her eyes ablaze with anger and frustration.

"Just because I haven't wanted to kiss you since I turned thirteen doesn't mean I've never wanted to kiss you, Paris.  You might not believe me, you don't have to, but I have and well I am glad we did."

Paris stared at him incredulously trying to comprehend what he was saying, "You are glad we kissed." He nodded.  "Why?"

"I thought I just explained this to you Paris.  Did you get slow and inattentive in my absence?"

Ignoring his comment she continued, "Even if I believe that you wanted to kiss me, I still don't understand why, I mean what about Rory?"

"Rory has nothing to do with this and you know it," Tristan responded getting more frustrated and agitated by Paris's petulance. 

Paris's anger turned to slight amusement as she watched the myriad of emotions play out on Tristan's face as the idea of Rory sunk into his head.  Then shaking her head in almost condescendingly she replied, "Come on Tristan, this is me, and the looks between you and Rory earlier were not nothing."

"Perhaps," he said slowly, thinking about what he was going to say before he said it, for once.  "But, even if there was something going on between Rory and I, which I am not saying there is," he waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss the thought, "I still do not see how it has anything to do with our kissing."

"Did you lose all your intelligence when you were at military school?" Paris bit out her anger starting to flare again at his idiocy.

He glared at her, annoyed that she wasn't willing to drop the subject of Rory.  He didn't know what was going on there, but he knew he didn't want to discuss it with Paris, not now anyway.  "Look, can we just leave Rory out of this?" he asked almost pleadingly.  "This doesn't have to be about her, it's not about her."

"Then what's it about?  Who's this about?" Paris shot back, her annoyance overriding her common sense for the moment.

If he weren't so riled up he would have laughed at the inanity of her question, instead he answered with a frustrated sigh, "It's about us, Paris.  You and I.  Kissing."

She looked at him them, her eyes piercing his and for a moment he thought she might slap him, she had no reason to, but when had that stopped Paris from doing anything before?  Instead she spoke, her voice suddenly hushed as she continued to hold his gaze, "It was a nice kiss, wasn't it?"

He smirked, "Very nice." 

She merely nodded, her head now bowed as she realized what she had admitted and tried to figure out what it might reveal.  Tristan always managed to leave her head spinning and now was no exception; no one else could make her so angry and annoyed in one moment and completely reflective the next.  She was supposed to be above this and Tristan DuGrey was supposed to be behind her.  Only he wasn't, instead he was here and he had kissed her, really kissed her, and it had been an amazing kiss, better than good, but he didn't have to know that. 

Tristan watched her closely for a moment, he too wondering about the sudden shift in conversation.  With it the whole atmosphere had changed, it was no longer hostile but instead had reverted back to tension filled once more.  Her cheeks were colored with the faint hues of a blush and he couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking that had caused that reaction.

"Par?" his voice was soft as he reached out a hand twining his fingers with hers, watching as they swung lightly.  "Do you think maybe we can start again?  You know put all the bullshit behind us, be friends."

Friends, the word echoed in her brain, over and over, it was all she could do not to scream.  Thirty minutes ago she would have been thrilled to get such a request from this man but now, now she wanted more.  She hated to admit it, even to herself, but it was true.  He had kissed her and while she had said it was a mistake, knew it was a mistake; she wanted it to be more.  Of course he was Tristan and a kiss was a kiss, he'd had so many, with so many different girls that meant nothing, why should she be any different?  But the friendship was something, right?

She glanced up at him, noting that he was still looking at their hands which he had yet to let go of.  Taking a deep breath she put on what she hoped to be a real looking smile, "I'd like that."

His eyes darted to hers and the smile he wore was so genuine, so real, so unlike anything she had ever seen on his face before, she couldn't help but smile back.  She knew to any outsider they must have looked ridiculous, Paris Gellar and Tristan DuGrey, holding hands and staring at each other, big goofy smiles across their faces, but she didn't care and the best part was that neither did he.  Maybe, just maybe being friends wouldn't be so bad.

~*~

As Tristan wandered around the house, his mind lingered in the garden.  On some level he knew that things weren't going to be as simple as he presented them.  Things with Paris never were.  He just assumed that this was the best path to take.  He and Paris were better off friends.  At least that was what he kept trying to convince himself.  

He was so wrapped up in his musings that he didn't notice the person standing in his path until he almost collided with her back.  Luckily for him he picked up on her presence just in time and managed to stop himself from walking into the girl as she put on her jacket.  Looking up his mind sighed in frustration as he noticed just who this girl was and he wondered why the fates couldn't let him be, but he played his part all the same.

"Leaving so soon?" he queried, lowering his voice to a husky whisper as his lips grazed the shell of her ear.

The sound of his voice, so close and unexpected accompanied by the caress of her skin startled her causing her to jump back in surprise, her head instantly colliding with his jaw.

"Geez," he bit out rubbing his jaw, "You didn't have to resort to physical violence to get rid of me. A simple 'Leave me alone, Tristan' would have sufficed."

"Maybe, if you didn't sneak up on people you wouldn't be in pain," she retorted.

"I didn't sneak up on you, I happened upon you," he clarified as if this revelation would change their current scenario.  

She shrugged, deciding against playing into the childish argument, instead she continued buttoning her jacket before taking a glance at her watch.  "It's after midnight, I would hardly call what I'm doing as leaving soon," she scoffed, remembering his original question.

He nodded in response, his lips twisting into a smile, "It was nice seeing you again."

Her face lit up at the sincerity in his voice. No matter what she might have told herself she had missed having him around the remaining year and a half of school and it was nice to have seen him again, even if it was only for a short while.  "It was, maybe we could do it again," Rory suggested, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt. 

"I'd like that," he responded, flashing her a brilliant smile, causing her stomach to flutter and her throat to go dry.  On instinct, he placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the main entrance.  Neither said a word as they walked towards the door, she was too caught up in the heat that seemed to permeate through her light jacket and shirt, practically burning her skin; he, on the other hand, was trying to figure out how his feelings could flip-flop so easily.  It felt like just moments before he was wrapped up in Paris and now all he could focus on was how nice it was to just touch Rory without her pulling away. 

He held the door open for her as they got to the door, letting her walk through it before he followed her out, easily falling into stride beside her.  She quirked her head to the side, "Where are you going?"

He caught her gaze, amusement coloring his facial features, "Where are _you_ going?"

Annoyance flashed across her face as she continued walking, but instead of stooping to his level she answered the question, "Home."

"And how do you plan on getting home?" he countered, clearly taking pleasure in her obvious irritation.

"My car," she answered curtly, wondering where the cordial Tristan from moments ago had gone.

He smirked, "Then, that is where I'm going."

"What?" she stopped, confused by his response, too busy wondering what he was doing to register what he was saying.

"I'm walking you to your car, Rory," his voice was light as a smile played on his lips, for a smart girl, she could be incredibly dense.

"Oh," she was suddenly shy and inwardly pleased at his revelation.  "You don't have to do that."

Instead of responding he simply fell into step beside her as she once again began to walk along the long row of pricey cars that lined the street.  They were silent again, in another time Rory would have continued her protestations but she no longer felt the need to push him away, instead she enjoyed the quiet company he provided even if it was for a moments time.

She stopped walking once she reached her car, leaning against the door.  "You really didn't have to walk me to my car."

He merely shrugged, placing a strand of her hair behind her ear before responding, "I know, but I wanted to."

She nodded.  "Thanks," her voice was soft and her smile genuine and he had to fight every urge in his body not to pull her to him and kiss her senseless.  He had kissed one girl tonight and while at one time he wouldn't have thought twice about kissing another less than an hour later, he wasn't that guy anymore.  Besides, both girls deserved more respect than that, more than he could provide.

"It was my pleasure."  He returned her smile, and she could swear her heart skipped a beat.  It was rare that one received a genuine smile from Tristan and to have it directed at her, twice in the course of minutes, well Rory couldn't help but feel she had somehow gotten very lucky.   

She was so caught up in her musings that she barely noticed that he was now standing within an inch of her; it wasn't until his hand came up and caressed her cheek that she came back to the present.  She felt as if she couldn't breathe as his hand traced a line down her jaw, lightly lifting her chin so that her eyes met his.  He was so close, if either of them moved an inch their lips would connect, and she couldn't deny that the thought left her wanting, almost of its own accord her tongue darted out wetting her painfully dry lips.  His eyes shifted at the movement, focusing on her mouth for a moment, before closing the distance between them.  Her eyes slipped shut, and she had to bite back a groan of disappointment as she felt his lips graze her cheek before he pulled away entirely.

She blinked, watching in a half daze as he walked back towards the party.  Stopping halfway there he turned, a smirk adorning his face as he spoke, "You should call me."  And then he was gone, back to the party inside, leaving her no choice but to pull open the door and get inside the confines of her car.  As she pulled away from the lavish estate she couldn't contain the goofy smile that had spread across her face.  He wanted her to call him.


	3. A Crash Course in Phone Etiquette

**A/N:**  I would once again like to thank everyone for your encouraging reviews on my last chapter, they truly mean the world to me.  The park mentioned in this chapter is real, if you would like to learn more about it you can find information here: .

Thanks to Melissa and Janine for providing me with encouragement and inspiration.  Also thanks to the greatest betas ever, Surya (without whom I would have no titles) and Jamie, this fic would be nothing but a partially created idea on my computer if it weren't for their support and encouragement, they are my support, my sounding board and my inspiration, and I love them for it.

Once again, all good things come to those who wait, so yes, the trory is coming, just please be patient and enjoy the build up.

_Chapter 3:  A Crash Course in Phone Etiquette_

            Rory looked down at her hands; staring at the phone number she had memorized half an hour ago in her right and the phone that was getting sweaty in her left.  This was becoming ridiculous, she had spent the better part of the last hour debating whether or not she should call him, or if she should wait.  Perhaps two days was too presumptuous, she didn't want to seem over eager but then she didn't want too much time to pass either.  Is this how boys felt when they asked girls, she wondered, grateful that she wasn't male and didn't necessarily have to worry about making the first move on a daily basis.  

The first move, the words rung in her head, is that what she was doing?  Was she making the first move?  Or had he already done that when he had told her to call him?  Did she want any moves to have been made?  This was Tristan DuGrey, a boy she had said she hated, but even then she knew there was no truth behind the proclamation.  Sure he had made her life hell on more than one occasion but part of her reveled in the way he kept her on her toes, made her think and act.

She shook her head; this was getting her no where, all she had managed to do was flatten the carpet beneath her feet from her constant pacing.  What was the big deal anyway?  He told her to call, she should just call.  He didn't have to know that it took her an hour and a half after she had come home from the party to find his number, scrawled on a paper from junior year when they had been working on _Romeo and Juliet_.  He didn't have to know that she then placed it on her desk and stared at the paper from her bed for another half hour before going to bed and then completely ignored it the following day pretending that she didn't want to use it.  This was made even harder by Lorelai's constant questions and nagging about the party, and what happened and why she had a slightly loopy expression on her face, all of which she had somehow managed to dodge, for the time being at least.  And now she was alone in the house, her mom had left two hours ago after being called in to an emergency at the Dragon Fly and she was left by herself with the number, mocking her.

Looking at the phone one more time, she started to punch in the numbers.  She managed six of the seven digits before her nerves kicked in once more and she quickly turned it off, afraid that if she didn't it would somehow dial the last number itself and then she would be screwed.  She knew once she hit all the digits she couldn't hang up, he was rich, she reasoned, there was no way he didn't have caller id.  He would see that she had called and hung up and laugh at her, she could see it now, she would be some big joke.

Staring at her hands again she flopped down onto the couch wondering what was wrong with her.  This was Tristan DuGrey, an old almost friend, it shouldn't be such a big deal to just call him. He had told her to call, which meant he had to have wanted to hear from her, there was no reason to be so nervous, no reason at all.  

Except that this was Tristan DuGrey and while she didn't know much when it came to him, she knew she wanted to know more, she knew that no one could rile her up the way that he did, she knew that no one had ever left her as flustered and embarrassed as he could.  Most of all she knew that she liked it, some time while staring at his number before bed she had decided to stop deluding herself.  There was something there between them, what she wasn't sure, but for once in her life she wanted to find out.

She quickly punched in the numbers, bringing the phone to her ear, not willing to allow another second's thought on the matter.  The phone rang once, twice, before a polished voice answered, "DuGrey Residence."

She let out a relieved sigh glad she would have another moment before she spoke to him.  "Hi.  This is Rory, um Rory Gilmore, I was hoping I could speak to Tristan," she managed to get out in a rush, berating herself for sounding so unsure of herself.

"I'm sorry, Tristan isn't in at the moment.  You can reach him on his cell phone.  Good Day," the curt female voice responded before promptly hanging up.

Rory stared at the phone a moment, not believing that the woman on the other end had just hung up on her.  How could she just hang up?  She didn't have Tristan's cell phone number.   What was this lady thinking?  Didn't she know how long it had taken to actually call his house, and now not only was she not allowed to leave a message but she wasn't given the number she needed to call.

She hit redial, frustrated and angry, this wasn't how this was supposed to go at all.  Again the phone was answered by the curt female voice. 

"Hi.  This is Rory Gil-"

"I told you Miss, Tristan is out," interjected the voice, cutting her off and causing her frustration and anger to grow further.

"Yes, I know," Rory responded trying her best to sound polite, but not sure she had managed to pull it off.  "I was hoping you could give me the number of his cell phone, I don't have it."

The lady on the other end made a noise that Rory thought sounded almost indignant but she couldn't be sure before rattling off Tristan's number, barely giving Rory enough time to jot it down before she once again hung up with a brisk "Good Day." 

Rory stared at the phone dumbfounded.  She couldn't believe how this woman had treated her.  Was it really that hard to be polite?  She idly wondered if that was how everyone who called was treated, but couldn't imagine it being so, she was sure her grandparents would have mentioned something about the DuGrey's rude help if that had been the case.

She put down the phone, still fuming at how she was treated, allowing her anger to take over for the time being because despite the courage she had manifested in order to call his house she knew she would have to find even more to call his cell.  

He hadn't given her that number, he wouldn't be expecting her to call it.  What if he didn't want her to call him on his cell phone?  What if it was too personal?  Perhaps he would think she was being too pushy, invading his space or something like that.  Maybe she should wait, try his house again later, but then the thought of encountering the evil phone woman again caused her to instantly nix that idea.  So she had to call his cell, and she should do it now.  Now, before her mom came home and mocked her for staring at the phone and hounded her for information she wasn't ready to divulge just yet.  Now, before she lost her nerve completely, or had she done that already?  

She picked up the phone again, staring at it, then at the newly acquired number in her other hand, the ink taunting her.  She could do this, she knew she could, she just needed a minute, a minute to regain her composure.  All she had to do was dial the numbers.  It really wasn't that hard, perhaps he wouldn't hear it ring or had it turned off, then she could just leave a message and the ball would be in his court, her move made.  Of course, she knew her luck and that would never happen, she wasn't even sure why she wanted it to happen.  

What was the big deal anyway?  He had told her to call.  His words rung in her head plain as day and she groaned looking at her hands once more, here we go again.

~*~

            "So, what do you think?" Tristan asked eagerly, as he watched her face for a reaction.

            "I think," she replied, rolling her eyes as she took in their surroundings but failing to keep a smile from tugging at her lips, "I think, you are insane."

            It was his turn to roll his eyes as he draped an arm over her shoulder, using the other one to indicate the park around them, "I already knew that, Paris.  I was actually wondering what you thought of this lovely park here."

            She fell into step with him, not bothering to shrug his arm off his shoulder as he led them in the direction of the carousel.  Inwardly she couldn't be more pleased at his choice in location, it had been years since she had been here and was almost certain the last had been with him.  They used to come to Bushnell Park regularly, before life and school and growing up got in the way, they would spend hours riding the carousel, not caring that they were keeping prime ponies to themselves.  Then when they had enough of that they would walk around, sometimes watching a performance in the pavilion, other times finding a secluded grassy area where they could just lay and watch the sky, occasionally pointing out particularly interesting clouds.

            Paris sighed, that seemed like years ago.  A lot had changed since then and they had grown apart, made new friends, yet somehow he seemed to know exactly what to do to surprise her, to make her want forget about all the bad blood between them and just fall back into the friendship they once had.

            Tristan looked down at his companion contemplatively wondering what was running through her head.  He had brought her here to show her that he was serious, that he wanted to be her friend again, and he was willing to try and put the effort into it.  When he had called her, he hadn't been sure of where he should take her, but once he thought about it, there seemed no better place to rekindle their friendship.

            As the carousel came into view, Paris stopped walking, taking in the grandeur and beauty even in the daylight.  Then she turned to Tristan a smile playing on her lips, "I get Dane, you have to ride Lucy."

            He chuckled as they continued walking, "We'll see about that."

            She looked at him, narrowing her eyes into a glare, "He's my horse," she proclaimed indignantly.

            "Only because you forced me to ride the pink one, while you got the green one."

            "You're the one who named them," she shot back.

            "You're the one who said we had to ride the same horses all the time."

            "They were the best," she responded dismissively, "besides, you agreed."

            By now they had reached the line for the carousel and were oblivious to the various parents and children watching the two young adults argue like eight year olds.  Their banter continued until a shrill ringing from Tristan's pocket cut them off.  

            Tristan looked at Paris apologetically before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small silver phone, glancing at the number briefly before flipping it open and putting it up to his ear with a "Hey."

            Paris listened half-heartedly to Tristan's side of the conversion, idly wondering who was on the other end of the line.

            "Yeah, I know, but I have plans."  Paris wondered if she should let him know that it was okay and he could go do whatever it is the other person wanted.  It didn't matter that she didn't really think it was okay, she didn't want him to think he had to be here with her, even if he was the one to initiate this trip down memory lane in the first place.

            "I realize this, but I'll be home all summer."

            Hearing his virtual repetition of his previous answer Paris opened her mouth to speak, her mind made up, "Tristan,"   When he didn't even look at her, she lightly tapped his shoulder, finally having his attention she spoke, "its okay, you can go do whatever, it's not a big deal."

            He looked at her skeptically for a moment, not really believing her, before waving her off completely and returning his attention to the person on the other end of the phone.  "Look, I've gotta go.  Talk to you later."  He paused a moment, listening to the other end before taking the phone away from his ear and snapping it shut.

            "You didn't have to stay here with me, you know."

            He looked up at Paris, studying her face for a moment without saying a word, then he simply shrugged returning his arm to its place on her shoulder before replying, "You really don't think I would ditch you before I got a chance to ride Lucy, did you?"

            She laughed, a light melodic noise that he realized he hadn't heard nearly enough in the past six or seven years.  "I see how it is.  You're here for the horse not me," she tried her best to sound indignant but failed miserably.

            "No see," he said in a whisper, leaning down so his lips brushed her ear as he spoke, "It's all about impressing the beautiful blonde."

            Her cheeks turned red from his words or his proximity she wasn't sure which either way she didn't miss his smirk a he stood upright again, watching her in amusement.  Never one to back down, she looked around a moment, before turning to him in response, "I am not sure he is all too impressed, but perhaps if you went and talked to him, instead of hanging all over me…" she trailed off indicating a fairly attractive blond boy watching presumably his sibling from the side of the carousel.

            Tristan blanched at the idea, but couldn't help his chuckle, "He's not really my type.  You on the other hand…"

            She jabbed him in the ribs, before looking at him seriously, "Friends."

            The one word brought him back to reality, remembering his words to her, not two days before and realizing he wasn't being fair, but then how could he not flirt?  It was then that he realized that a friendship with Paris was going to be a lot more complicated than he had originally thought, though he ever thought it would be simple he didn't know.

            "How many, sir?" the voice broke him out of his revere and he looked up to see an elderly man standing in front of the gate.  It was then he noticed they had made it to the front of the line.

            Noticing that Tristan had yet to respond to the simple question Paris answered digging into her pocket, "Two."  

Just as she was about to give the man her dollar, Tristan stopped her, seeming to have come to his senses, he pushed her hand aside giving the man a five dollar bill and shaking his head as he went to give him change.  "We'll ride five times if that is okay?"

The elderly man simply nodded, waving the teens through the gate.  

As the two stepped into the gated area surrounding the carousel it was as if they had stepped back in time, the awkward moment from seconds ago forgotten as they rushed around the carousel trying to find their respective horses.  Paris spotted them first and was beside them in a flash, just beating out a small boy who seemed to want Paris's green horse.  She simply glared at the little boy, causing tears to spring to his eyes as he ran in the opposite direction, deciding it was best to have a horse far away from the scary blonde girl.

Tristan couldn't contain his laughter at the site, which earned him a glare of his own causing him to laugh that much harder making it very difficult for him to get on his pink horse.  Once he had finally managed to get his laughter in check and was seated comfortably on Lucy he turned towards Paris.  "I can't believe you almost made that little boy cry," he said shaking his head with amusement.

"He was going to steal our horses," she replied as if her reasoning was perfectly logical.

"We could have gotten them next run," he returned with a smile, letting her know that despite his words he was grateful they had their horses.

Before she had a chance to reply the ride started up and the two simply sat enjoying the moment.  As the ride spun in slow circles, the horses moving up and down along their poles Paris and Tristan forgot for a moment that they were eighteen and for a moment, a moment that lasted until the ride slowly came to a stop, they were twelve again.

Their first ride seemed to end all too soon, and the teens watched silently as most of the riders got off the ride.  As new people filtered on Paris turned to Tristan who seemed to be lost in thought.  "Tristan," her voice bringing him back to the present, "thank you."  When he looked at her questioningly she added, for today, for bring me here, I can't remember the last time I had this much fun."

Her words caused a smile to take over his face as he responded, "It's not over yet, we still have four more rides here and then I plan on cloud watching.  Don't think you're getting out of that."

His smile infectious, she returned it with ease, "I wouldn't dream of it." And then once again the ride started in motion and the two allowed themselves to travel back in time some more.

~*~ 

            "Come on Par, that looks _nothing_ like a turtle.  It's more of an otter if anything?" 

            "Do you even know what an otter looks like?" Paris shot back, giving her companion an incredulous look before turning her attention back to the aforementioned cloud.  "It's a turtle."

            "Yes, I know what an otter looks like, it looks like that cloud," Tristan responded stubbornly goading her into an argument, pointing at the cloud in an attempt to accentuate his point.

            "It looks nothing like an otter, Tristan," she replied annoyance creeping into her voice.  "What on earth did they teach you at that military school?" she added almost as an afterthought.

            He chuckled at her question; everything came back to schooling in one way or another where Paris was concerned.  "They taught me that clouds like the one we are looking at resemble an otter," he taunted.  He knew what he was doing, getting her riled up for the fun of it.  He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it, she made it so easy and it was so much fun.

            "It's a turtle; it isn't even close to looking like an otter.  Maybe you need glasses," Paris shot back snippily.

            "I don't need glasses, Paris, but maybe _you do," he shot back, leering at the blonde girl._

            It was then that Paris chose to divert her attention from the clouds to Tristan.  Noting his smirk and the amusement in his eyes, she didn't hesitate before smacking his arm, hard, all the while muttering, "Asshole."

            "Damn it," he bit out rubbing his arm, "that hurt."

            "You deserved it," she countered.

            "Come on, I was just having some fun," he pleaded, giving her his best look of repentance.

             Paris merely turned her head in the opposite direction, pretending to be interested in her nails.

            "Pa-ris," Tristan chided in a sing-song voice, as he moved closer to her, this only caused her to turn her head to glare in his direction before turning back around.  "Come on, you know you were right, but where's the fun if I just agree?  You know you enjoy the debate," he added, shifting so that he was facing her, and placing his hand on her cheek so she couldn't look away, yet again.  

            The earnest look in his eyes and the feel of his hand on her cheek were making it nearly impossible for her too hold her grudge.  She was always a bit weak when it came to Tristan, and the fact that he was currently touching her, his hand now gently caressing her skin, caused her to practically forget why she was annoyed in the first place.

            "Paris?" his voice came out low and husky, as he moved in closer to her, she held her breath as she waited for the contact, her eyes slipping shut despite her head's protest, telling her they were just going to be friends, and he really couldn't do this to her.  But her body wasn't having any of it, the feel of his touch on her skin and the overwhelming sensations taking over her body as he moved in closer, was enough to tune out her head.  Of course it wasn't quite enough to tune out the shrill sound of his cell phone, or the immediate loss she felt as he pulled away, a sheepish look on his face as he ran his hand through his hair before reaching in his pocket and pulling out the phone.

             Annoyed at herself for getting worked up, she faced the other direction as he answered his phone, content to compose herself and forget what just almost happened while he talked to whoever was on the phone.   

            She was intent on ignoring his conversation entirely but when his deep chuckle reached her ears, she couldn't stop her curiosity from getting the best of her, and she turned back around, listening in on his side of the conversation.

            He didn't speak for another moment or two, but the genuine smile on his face and the amused look in his eye was all she needed to know that whoever was on the other end was definitely female and definitely someone he was fond of, and then as he spoke she couldn't help the stab of anger and jealousy that hit her as her face contorted into a scowl as she continued to listen.

~*~

            "Rory-" and then when she continued her long winded, rambling apology without pause Tristan added, "Mary," that got her attention, or at least she was stopping for air, giving him enough time to respond.  "I'm glad you called, I wasn't so sure you would."

            "Oh," he could see her face, the concentrated look she had had while she was explaining herself for calling his cell dropping slightly at his revelation, not ready for the conversation to actually be that.  "Well, good, because I was hoping we could maybe get together sometime, you know, hang out, catch up.  I'd love to hear about military school and everything else you have been up to, and I can fill you in on all the Chilton gossip, though I suppose Louise might be better suited for that, but I could do my best and it was just nice seeing you again," her voice became softer as she finished, surprising them both at the tenderness it seemed to posses.

            Almost as if he sensed that while she meant what she said, she would be more comfortable, at least for now, if he played it off, he responded, "Oh yeah? Any chance you'd like to show me how nice?"

            He ignored Paris's snort of disgust, instead concentrating on the phone as Rory answered, her voice dropped in what he could only describe as a sexy purr, "the thought had crossed my mind."

            "Then please, Miss. Gilmore, name the time and place and I will be there, eagerly waiting," he responded teasingly, enjoying this more confident, more flirtatious Rory.

            "Tomorrow, my house, one o'clock," then added quickly, "that is if you're not already doing something."

            He couldn't help the smile that overtook his features at the uncertainty that crept into her voice, it was also nice knowing she hadn't changed all that much.  "I'll be there," he shot a glance at Paris, noting her scowl and the hurt look in her eyes, he continued, "but I should get going."

            "Oh, okay, of course," she replied and he couldn't help the elation he felt at the inflection of disappointment in her tone.

            "I'll see you tomorrow.  Oh and Rory?"

            "Yeah?"

            "It was nice seeing you again too," his voice mirrored her earlier softness, and as he clicked the phone shut, he couldn't help but hope his words had put a smile on her face.

~*~

            When he turned around, preparing himself to deal with Paris, he was mildly surprised to find that she wasn't there, it wasn't like Paris to avoid confrontation, not that he wanted to have a confrontation, but knowing Paris he assumed that's what was coming.  He hadn't been anticipating this, quickly he made his way out of the secluded area they had found earlier, trying to figure out where she had gone off to, hoping that she hadn't decided to find her own way home and was still counting on him for a ride.  Though if she had left, it would be a lot easier to wait for her at the Gellar mansion then try and find her here.  He scanned the park, trying to figure out what direction she had gone in as she couldn't have gone far, yet.

            Spotting what could possibly Paris's blonde head moving towards the opposite end of the park; he took off in a sprint, hoping to catch up with her before she got there.  This wasn't hard as she was walking at an almost leisurely pace and once he reached her, his hand reached out, automatically clamping on her shoulder, in an effort to stop her in her progress.  He didn't expect the piercing scream that followed or the hard thwack to his midsection, as she struggled from his grasp.  Easing his hold, turned to stare, he realized the mistake he had made.  While her hair and petite frame were similar to Paris's this woman was clearly not the one her had been searching for.  Normally he would have spent a few moments making she was okay and that he meant her no harm, but the longer he stayed here the more of a chance Paris had to go elsewhere, so he muttered an apology and took off in the same direction he was going, deciding, he should continue this direction before heading off in another.

            As Tristan made his way across the park, he pulled out his cell phone once more, scrolling through the numbers until he found Paris's cell, hitting send he hoped she actually picked up.  The phone continued to ring, the sound vibrating in his ear as he scanned various sections of the park he passed.  He stopped when he heard her voice, ready to apologize and find out where she was, only he soon realized that it was just a recording and he had gotten her voicemail.  He silently cursed under his breath as he hung up the phone, clearly annoyed, either she knew it was him and wasn't answering or she hadn't heard it ring at all.  He couldn't help but hope it was the latter as he continued his search.  

            Half an hour later and he had still not found her, he decided that his best bet was to wait for her by the car, she knew where he was parked and he hoped she would turn up sooner or later.  His mind was running a mile a minute as he made his way towards the parking lot, it seemed like forever ago that Rory had called and even longer since he and Paris were laying amicably on the grassy knoll.  He knew Paris was upset, he knew why Paris was upset, but at the same time he couldn't help but think that Paris really didn't have a right to be upset.  They had agreed to just be friends, therefore it shouldn't matter who he flirts with, or sees.  B_ut then why did you try and kiss her, again_?_  _

            He didn't have time to ponder the question because as he neared his car he realized that the object of his thoughts was there, sitting on the trunk staring off in the opposite direction.  Tristan took a moment to study her, her long blonde hair was still a mess from lying on the ground earlier and blowing slightly in the light summer breeze.  What caught his attention was how she was sitting, her knees were tucked under her chin as her arms circled her legs, she looked so very much like a child and in that moment he wanted nothing more to wrap her in his arms, smooth the hair away from her face and just apologize, for anything and everything, because this wasn't Paris, this unnerved him.

            As if she sensed his presence she chose that moment, to turn her head, their eyes locking for the briefest of moments, but still long enough from some kind of understanding to pass between the two.  Paris allowed her legs to slide out from under her, so they were dangling off the front of the car, before sliding off of the vehicle completely and straightening herself out.  "Sorry, I shouldn't have walked off."

            If he had been expecting her to say something that clearly hadn't been it, because her words caught him off guard and it took him a moment to respond.  "That's okay, just have a throbbing pain in my side as a result of looking for you," he teased, trying to lighten the heavy air that surrounded them.  When she looked at him questioningly he continued, "I looked around the park for you, and actually thought I found you, instead I got smacked with a woman's purse," he accentuated the point, by lifting his shirt, to reveal a black-and-blue forming just above his jeans.

            "You didn't have to go looking for me."

            "I see that now, since you were waiting at the car the whole time," he returned with a smile.  He was still waiting for her to lash out, to do something other than just stand there almost passively.

            "I'm sorry I walked off," she said again, this time meeting his eye as she said it.

            "I know, you said that already, and I'm sorry-"

            "You have nothing to be sorry about," she cut him off.  "It was childish of me, we decided to be friends, what you do with Rory is none of my business, and I shouldn't have reacted the way I did."  The time alone had given her some time to think and she realized how pathetic she seemed, scowling, feeling hurt, running off, she had no claim on Tristan DuGrey, and it shouldn't matter to her who he dated or didn't date, so she decided she would apologize and put the whole thing behind them.  Of course that didn't stop it from bothering her, from hurting her but she was Paris Gellar and she could handle anything, even rejection.


End file.
